You lie in your bed, staring up at the blank ceiling; it's the most interesting part of the room, you find. It may be blank, but it's a perfect canvas for all of your strange thoughts to play out upon.

You lie in your bed for lengths of time which you do not track, nor care about. The nurse comes in on occasion with food and water, which you do not care about either. But you drink and eat as you are made to, before you lie back down again and cast your eyes, once more, to the ceiling.

You are lying in your bed when a man comes to visit. The man runs in, which is bizarre since everything else here is so calm. No one runs here.

The man looks joyous as he enters the room, and starts talking about how he "knew you couldn't have died," and how it's "so good to see you, you son of a bitch."

You don't know this man. He frightens you with his loud voice and dark clothes. Everyone wears white here. White is a good colour. But this man is shadowy and large, and it scares you. You do not like it. You cower back and you see the man notice this.

"Cas?" he asks. You've never heard a question like that before. You do not answer because you do not know how. He repeats the question twice more before running a hand through his hair. "What's wrong with you? We broke in here to get you out after Crowley told us where you were! Sam's outside waiting in the car so we can get going the moment you're out. Cas, come on! Get your things."

You do not speak. You merely stare. You have no things to get. You are you, and you alone. You do not own anything but the placard on the end of your bed, which is what the man notices next. He lifts it from it's place.

"Name unknown?" he says, chuckling. "Cas, come on, you can tell the nurses your name. They'll probably find it sexy." When you do not reply yet again, he glances back at the placard, then back at you. You with your wide, fearing eyes and your chalk white face. You watch as the man seems to have some sort of realisation.

"What's your name?"

You blink at him. He storms forward, and you see the glazed look in his eyes as he grabs you roughly by the collar of your gown.

"I said what's your NAME!"

He is so angry and upset that you cry out because you are horrified to be treated this way. You push him back with your hands and he stumbles away, rubbing his eyes and smashing his fist into the wall.

"After all this goddamn time I find out that you're alive and then...and then you...I mean...I mean Cas. Come on." This time he walks forwards slowly, and places his hand on your cheek. It's gentle now, his touch. His eyes have softened. Almost too soft now. He looks sad. "Cas, come on, stop kidding around."

You shake your head. You look away. You want him to leave. You do not like sad people. The nurses here are always happy, which makes you happy. Sad and angry people don't belong here. Not in this room, anyway.

"Castiel?" His voice is barely a whisper now. You wonder what it is he's talking about. He seems so lost that you cannot help but feel sorry for him. Then it hits you. He must be a new patient here. He must be one of the deluded ones. So, you take pity on him, and allow yourself the courage to wrap your arms around him, holding him close. The nurses will sort this one out, just like they did with you. A nice, comfortable bed and his very own room. How lovely. You're sure he'll be fine here. You'll even introduce him to the other patients.

But for the moment, you merely sit and allow him to cry. He sits beside you on your bed, and talks about someone named "Bobby," and also the person named "Castiel." He talks about how he's alone, even with "Sam". How he misses his family, and how, now matter how petulant it sounds, that it's "just not fair."

You feel so sorry for him.

When the nurse comes in a few minutes later, and almost drops your food tray in shock at seeing the man on your bed, you gesture to her that everything's fine, and that he's going to need a little while longer.

"No no, I...I should be going," the man says.

You finally get up the bravery to say something.

"What is your name?"

A smile tugs at his lips. "Dean Winchester."

Then you pause.

You think.

"...Dean Winchester?" you repeat.

Suddenly, he grips your hand and nods. "Yes! Yes it is!"

"That's a lovely name," you reply, and smile back. And then he straightens. His face crumples and he is gone. Just...gone. The door closes with a slam behind him. No goodbye. No nothing.

But you don't mind.

You'll see him in the lounge at some point, when the nurses get him his own room.

You want to hear more about Castiel. You want to know why he thought Castiel was you.

You wonder who Castiel is in Dean's mind.

Was he real once? Or is he just a part of Dean's imagination?

That's what you're going to find out.

Castiel.

Well, you think. That's a lovely name too.